Chapter 32

The myth of the sprouting tree and the battle near it is set before us with important variations in a Low Saxon legend (Müllenhoff nos. 509-512. 605; Pref. L.). An ash, it is believed, will one day grow up in the churchyard of Nortorf in the middle of Holstein: no one has seen anything of it yet, but every year a small shoot comes up unnoticed above the ground, and every New year's night a white horseman on a white horse comes to cut the young shoot off. At the same time appears a black horseman on a black horse to hinder him. After a long fight, the black rider is put to flight, and the white one cuts the shoot. But some day he will not be able to overcome the black one, the ashe tree will grow up, and when it is tall enough for a horse to be tied under it (RA. p. 82; conf. the Dan. legend of Holger, Thiele 1, 20), the king with mighty hosts will come, and a terribly long battle be fought. During that time his horse will stand under the tree, and after that he will be more powerful than ever. In this story one can hardly help recognising the World-tree and the battle at the world's destruction: the white horseman seems to be Freyr, or some shining god, struggling with Surtr the black, and striving to delay the approaching end of the world by lopping off the sprout. Heathen gods the two champions are for certain, even if they be not these. The king, whose horse stands tied up under the tree, is the same as he whose shield is hung upon the tree, a future judge of the world.

As the past and the future, the lost paradise and the expected, do in the people's imagination melt into one, (16) they come to believe in a re-awaking of their loved kings and heroes out of their mountain-sleep: of Frederick and Charles, of Siegfried and doubtless Dietrich too. This is the true hall-mark of the epos, to endow its leading characters with a lasting inextinguishable life. But Siegfried is also Wuotan (pp. 26n. 134), Dietrich is Wuotan future. In the castle-cellar of Salurn, in the Silesian Zobtenberg, (p. 937), Charles is Wuotan (p. 394); and Wuotan, after Muspilli, rises on the world anew, a god alive and young again. Once before Oðinn had departed out of the land to Goðheim (Yngl. saga, c. 10); they supposed him dead, and he came back. And with long-bearded Wuotan the older legend of a red-bearded Donar may have started into consciousness again.

Arthur too, the vanished king, whose return is looked for by the Britons, (17) is believed, riding as he does at the head of the nightly host, (p. 942), to be lodged in a mountain with all his massenie: Felicia, the daughter of Sibylle, and the goddess Juno live in his fellowship, and his whole army lack neither food nor drink, horses nor raiment. (18) That Gralent continues to live, we are assured at the end of the Lais de Graelent. In a vaulted chamber near Kronburg in Denmark, mail-clad men sit round a stone table, stooping down, resting their heads on their crossed arms. When Holger danske, sitting at the end of the table, raised his head, the table, into which his beard had grown, went to pieces, and he said: 'we shall return when there are no more men in Denmark than there is room for on a wine-butt.' (Thiele 1, 23. 168). The Danes applied every myth to Olger, who does not belong to them at all, but to the Netherlands; he is the same Ogier (Otger, perh. Otacher) that haunts the Ardennes forest, and is to come back some day. (19) The Slavs too believe in the return of their beloved Svatopluk (Sviatopolk), and some parts of Moravia still keep up the custom of going in solemn procession to seek Svatopluk (Palacky 1, 135). With this I couple Svegdir's going forth 'at leita Oðin,' to look for O., Yngl. saga 15. The 'seeking God' on p. 145 was another thing (see Suppl.).

Often the banished one bears no name at all: the shepherd from the Ostenberg found in the cavernof the Willberg a little man sitting at a stone table, which his beard had grown through (Deut. sag. no. 314); and a grizzled man conducted the shepherd of Wernigerode to the treasures of the mountain cave (ib. no. 315), The beard's growing round or into the stone expresses forcibly the long duration of the past time, and the slow advance of the were found three men sitting at the table (ib. nos. 15. 143), who are represented as malefactors enchanted. It is easy to trace the step from heroes shut up in mountains to such as, having died naturally, sleep in their tombs of stone, and visibly appear at sundry times. At Steinfeld, in the Bremen Marschland, a man had disturbed a hüne-grave, and the following night three men appeared to him, one of them one-eyed (an allusion to Wuotan), and conversed in some unintelligible language; at last they hurled threatening looks at him who had rummaged their tomb, they said they had fallen in their country's cause, and if he broke their rest any more, he should have neither luck nor star (Harrys Nieders. sag. 1, 64).

But as Holda is spell-bound in the mountain, so it is preëminently to white women, white-robed maidens, (pp. 288. 412-8) that this notion of mountain banishment becomes applicable: divine or semi-divine beings of heathenism, who still at appointed times grow visible to mortal sight; they love best to appear in warm sunlight to poor shepherds and herd-boys. German legend everywhere is full of graceful stories on the subject, which are all substantially alike, and betray great depth of root.

On the Lahnberg in Up. Hesse sat a white maiden at sunrise; she had wheat spread out on sheets to dry in the sun, and was spinning. A baker of Marburg was passing that way, and took a handful of grains with him; at home he found nothing but grains of gold in his pocket. And the like is told of a peasant near Friedigerode.

A poor shepherd ws tending his flock at the Boyneburg, when he saw a snow-white maiden sit in the sunshine by the castle-door; on a white cloth before her lays pods of flax ready to crack open. In astonishment he steps up, says 'oh what fine pods!' takes up a handful to examine, then lays them down again. The maiden looks at him kindly, but mournfully, without a word of reply. He drives his flock home, but a few pods that had fallen into his shoe, gall his foot; he sits down to pull off the shoe, when there roll into his hand five or six grains of gold (Deut. sag. no. 10; conf. Wetterauische sagen p. 277. Mone's Anz. 8, 427).

In the Otomannsberg near Geismar village, a fire is said to burn at night. Every seven years there comes out a maiden in snowy garments, holding a bunch of keys in her hand. Another white woman with a bunch of keys appears on the castle-rock at Baden at the hour of noon (Mone's Anz. 8, 310).

In the castle-vault by Wolfartsweiler lies a hidden treasure, on account of which, every seventh year when may-lilies are in bloom, a white maiden appears; her black hair is plaited in long tails, she wears a golden girdle round her white gown, a bundle of keys at her side or in one hand, and a bunch of may-lilies in the other. She likes best to shew herself to innocent children, to one of whom she beckoned one day from beside the grave below, to come over to her: the child ran home in a fright, and told about it; when it came back to the place with its father, the maiden was no longer there. One day at noon, two of the gooseherd's girls saw the white maiden come down to the brook, comb and plait up her tails, wash her face and hands, and walk up the castle hill again. The same thing happened the following noon, and though they had been told at home to be sure and speak to the maiden, they had not the courage after all. The third day they never saw the maiden, but on a stone in the middle of the brook they found a liver-sausage freshly fried, and liked it better than they ever did another. Another day two men from Grünwettersbach saw the maiden fill a tub with water from the brook, and carry it up the hill; on the tub were two broad hoops of pure gold. The way she takes, every time she goes up and down, was plainly to be distinguished in the grass (Mone's Anz 8, 304).

At Osterrode, every Easter Sunday before sunrise, may be seen a white maiden, who slowly walks down to the brook, and there washes; a large bunch of keys hangs at her girdle. A poor linen-weaver having met her at that season, she took him one which he stuck in his hat. When he got home, he found the lily was pure gold and silver, and the town of Osterrode had not the money to buy it of him. The Easter-maiden's marvellous flower was taken by the Duke in return for a pension to the weaver, and placed in his princely coat of arms (Harrys 2, no. 23).

One Christmas night, when all lay deep in snow, a waggoner walked home to his village by a footpath. He saw a maiden in a summer bonnet stand not far off and turn over with a rake some pods of flax that lay spread out on the ground. 'I say, lass, is that the way?' he cried, and took a handful of the pods; she made no answer, but cut him over the hand with the rake. The next morning, when he remembered what he had brought home, the flax-pods had all turned into gold. He then hurried back to the spot, where he could see his footprints of the night before deep in the snow, but damsel and flax had disappeared (Mone's Anz. 5, 175).

On a hill near Langensteinbach in the forest is the long-ruined church of St. Babara, where the white woman walks by buried treasures. One leap-year in the spring a young girl went into it, and saw her step out of the choir, she cried sh! and beckoned the girl to her: her face and hands were white as snow, her raven hair was thrown back, in the hand she beckoned with she held a bunch of blue flowers, on the other were ever so many gold rings, she wore a white gown, green shoes, and a bunch of keys at her side. The terrified girl ran out of the church, and fetched in her father and brother who were at work outside, but they could not see the white woman till they asked the girl, who pointed and said 'there!' Then the woman turned, her hair hung over her back to the ground, she went toward the choir, and then vanished (Mone's Anz. 5, 321).

Into the convent garden of Georgenthal a maid was going about the hour of noon to cut grass; suddenly, high on the wall there stood a little woman as white as lawn, who beckoned till the clock struck twelve, then disappeared. The grass-girl sees on her way a fine cloth covered with flax-pods, and wondering she pockets two of them. When she gets home, they are two bright ducats (Bechst. Thür. sag. 2, 68).

About the underground well near Atterode many have seen in the moonlight the white maiden dry either washing or wheat (ib. 4, 166).

At the deserted castle of Frankenstein near Klosterallendorf, a maiden clothed in white appears every seven years, sitting over the vault and beckoning. Once when a man wished to follow her, but stood irresolute at the entrance, she turned and gave him a handful of cherries. He said 'thank you,' and put them in his pouch; suddenly there came a crash, cellar and maiden had disappeared, and the bewildered peasant, on examining the cherries at home, found them changed into gold and silver pieces (ib. 4, 144).

A fisherman in the neighbourhood of the Highwayman's hill near Feeben was throwing out his nets, when he suddenly saw the white woman stand on the bank before him with a bunch of keys. She said, 'thy wife at home is just delivered of a boy, go fetch me the babe, that I may kiss him and be saved.' The fisherman drove home, and found everything as she had said, but he durst not take his child out at once, the clergyman advised him to have it christened first; after which, when he repaired to the hill, the white woman sat weeping and wailing, for it was one of the set conditions that her redemption should be wrought by an infant unbaptized. So ever and anon she still appears on the hill, and waits the deliverer's coming (Ad. Kuhn no. 67).

By Hennikendorf not far from Luckenwalde, two shepherds pastured their sheep. A woman half white, half black, shewed herself on the mountain, making signs to them. One of them tardily went up, and she offered him all the gold in the mountain, if he would come in and set her free. When this entreaty failed to move him, she said that if he did not release her, there would not be another born for a hundred years that could; but the shepherd did not get over his fear till the hour of deliverance was past, and the woman sank into the mountain, whence he could for a long time hear heartrending plaints and moans (ib. no. 99).

A peasant who kept watch on the bleaching-floor near the ruins of Chorin monastery, saw the white woman (known there as the utgebersche, housekeeper, from her carrying a large bunch of keys) step in suddenly, and was not a little frightened. Next morning he told the other men, one of whom asked him if he had noticed her feet. He said no: 'then' said the other, 'let's all go to-night and have a look.' At midnight they sat down in the floor, and watched: before long the white woman came slowly striding, they all looked at her feet, and observed that they were in yellow (some say, green) slippers. Then the other man called out, laughing, 'why, she has yellow slippers on!' She fled in haste, and was never seen again (ib. no. 199).

Beside the brook of the Bütow castle hill, a peasant was ploughing, and often noticed a maiden draw water from it in a golden bucket and wash herself. At length he summoned up courage to ask her, and was told that she was a king's daughter, and had sunk with the mountain-castle into the ground; she could only be saved by one who, without halting or looking round, would carry her to the Wendish burial-ground at Bütow, and there throw her down with all his might. The ploughman ventured on the enterprise, and had safely got to the churchyard, but before he could fling her off his shoulders, something clutched his hair from behind, and he was so startled that he looked round and let his burden fall. The maiden flew up into the air, complaining 'that she must suffer more severely now, and wait another hundred years to be saved by a steadier hand.' Since then she has not as yet appeared again (Tettau and Temme no. 267).

The Pillberg is a castle that was banned. In the evil hour from 11 to 12 at noon a woman used to shew herself on it, smoothing her hair in the sunshine, and begging the shepherds to lay hold of her: no harm should come to whoever did so, only let him hold her tight and not say a word. A man of thirty, who was still employed as a cowboy, mustered up all his courage for once, and grasped the hand of the castle-dame; while he held, all sorts of jugglery were played upon him, dogs were just going to bite him, horses to run over him, still he held fast; but anguish forced from his breast the moan 'herr Gott, herr Jesus!' In a moment the dame was loose from his hand, sobbed out that she was lost for ever, and vanished (Reusch's Sagen des Samlands no. 8).

On the hill near Kleinteich a castle is said to have stood, which has long been swallowed up. The people say their forefathers still saw with their own eyes a king's daughter come up every day between 11 and 12, and comb her golden locks over a golden trough (ib. no. 12).

The Hünenberg by Eckritten was once a holy mount, whereon the Prussians sacrificed to their gods; there a dame shews herself now. A peasant, having heard a good deal about her, rode up the hill to see her. He did see her too, combing her hair, but turned tail directly, and was only prevailed on by her prayers to turn back again. She addressed him kindly, and gave him what she had combed out of her hair. He felt so daunted that he thanked her, popped the present into his pocket, and rode off; but when he was out of her sight, he threw it away. He had better have kept it, for at home he found a few grains of gold still, which had stuck in the corners of his pocket (ib. no. 13).




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